Edge Of Danger

by Cherry Adair

  If she wanted mourners at her funeral she was going to have to get out more, she thought a little hysterically.

  “Better?” he asked, seated at the far end of the table as though she were contaminated with the bubonic plague. She had the most ridiculous urge to walk the walk and go and plop herself down right next to him. Breathe on him, and see if he’d run. She didn’t think so. He looked big and mean enough to take on the Marines, the Navy, and the Air Force.Combined.

  And where did that leave her?

  She didn’t have the brawn. She looked him over. She’d bet she could run circles around his brain with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. “I’m fine,” she lied, folding her hands on top of the table. The wood was smoothly weathered and scratched and gouged from age. She traced her thumbnail around one of the nicks as her mind whirled and her stomach settled. First she had to find out where she was.

  “No you’re not. You’re still sick to your stomach and you have vertigo.”

  True, unfortunately.She tilted her chin and gave him the evil eye. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “T-FLAC has a crack research team who came up with a profile of one Eden Elizabeth Cahill, age twenty-seven,” he told her flatly. “Want me to continue?”

  She waved a hand in a “go for it” gesture. While he told her where she’d been born, the names of her parents, and where she’d gone to nursery school or whatever, she considered how many people there might be in residence. One or one hundred. She wasn’t going anywhere until the nausea passed and she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

  “Married to Dr. Adam Burnett, who was what? Twenty-five years older than you?”

  She presumed the question was rhetorical and kept her mouth shut. She did her best not to think about either Adam or their marriage. As short a time as it had lasted, they’d both gotten what they wanted, or deserved, she sometimes thought. Adam had attached himself to her accomplishments, and she’d learned that she’d rather be lonely by herself.

  “Divorced at twenty-one.” He had a great voice. Smooth and mellow. Under normal circumstances she’d quite enjoy listening to him. But he was reciting her life as though it were scrolling in front of him on a TelePrompTer.

  “Dr. Burnett took credit for most of your work while you were married. After the divorce and MIT, you went to work for Jason Verdine at Verdine Industries.” He was tapping his index finger on the edge of the table as he talked. An annoying habit that on anyone else Eden would’ve read as nerves. But not this guy. She’d be willing to bet nothing fazed him.

  “You’ve been called one of the most brilliant scientists in America byPopular Science magazine. You were what? Sixteen?”

  “You tell me. You seem to know it all.” The finger-tapping was as annoying as jiggling change in a pocket. She glanced from his face to the offending finger, and back again. “In a hurry? Or do I make you nervous?”

  He flattened his hand on the table. “Honored byTechnical Review Magazine as ‘Innovator for the Next Century.’ Ten years’ experience in robotic technology—including the year when Verdine Industries loaned you to NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratories. BS in Mechanical Engineering, and an MS in Computer Science, both at MIT. Nobel Prize for computer language processing for dialogue and translation—”

  “Very thorough,” she interrupted. Very thorough, and freakingcreepy to know thatanyone was interested enough in her life to bother digging all that up.

  “You’re a woman who’s used to being alone. A woman comfortable with her own brilliance, but modest about her contribution to both the scientific and commercial inventions. A woman who spends more every month on shoes—size seven and a half—and perfume—you favor florals—than she does on rent. An honest woman who told the biggest lie of the century and now regrets it. More?”

  “That pretty much covers it,” Eden said briskly. The only thing he hadn’t mentioned was how many pounds she’d been overweight. “Who did you say dug all of this up?” Her stomach was settling. A few more minutes and she’d ask for the bathroom. The second she was out of this room, and away from him, she’d run like hell.

  “T-FLAC.”

  She had no idea what that was. Nor did she care. Everything he’d just said by rote was true.

  But he couldn’t possibly know about the lie. Could he? Why the hell not? She still didn’t understand how she’d gotten here.

  Stay calm,she cautioned herself.Don’t let him see me panic. Don’t let him think he can bully me into admitting—anything.

  Giving her rapid heart rate time to return to some semblance of normalcy, Eden spared a glance through the leaded-glass windows. Evergreens. Shrubs. Mountains in the distance. None of it looked familiar. “Where are we?”

  “Montana.”

  Eden stared at him, wide-eyed. “Montana? My God, what did you give me that could keep me out for so long?” She, who loathed exercise, felt her body vibrate with unspent energy. She felt the need to run. To jog five miles, to swim laps or leap tall buildings. She had to escape this kidnapper with his dark eyes and bad disposition,tout de suite.

  “I didn’t—never mind that.”

  He didn’t—what? Drug her? “What do you want from me?”Because as hunky as you are, weasel dog, you are notgoing to get it. “Kidnapping is a felony, and I assure you, I’ll prosecute you to the full extent of the law.”

  “They’ll have to find you first, won’t they?”

  She gave him a stony look. “A threat layered over a kidnapping is just overkill.”

  The man who she’d thrown up on earlier walked back into the room and shot her a smile as he walked the length of the table toward her. “He kidnapped you to protect you, Dr. Cahill.” He took a chair a few feet away from her.

  No fair, she thought, that he’s had a shower. She shot him a quick glance. He was a nice-looking guy. Tall, dark, light blue eyes, dimple. But her heart didn’t accelerate when she looked at him.He didn’t worry her, or make her feel threatened. Eden looked back at her kidnapper. “Really?” My God, the man had a scowl like nothing she’d ever seen. “How kind of you. But I have all the protection I need back in Tempe. I’d like to go home now.”

  “Your prototype for the Rx793 robot was stolen,” Gabriel said unnecessarily. “Know who has it?”

  Eden reached for a glass and the crystal decanter of whiskey on a nearby silver tray. She rarely drank, and certainly not at this time of the morning. However, these were definitely extenuating circumstances. She needed time to come up with a good answer. If he was toying with her to find out how much she knew, she’d have to be on guard.

  She poured half a glass, then drank most of it down in one gulp. It was vile and hit her stomach like a tsunami. It tasted just as bad now as it had when the other guy had poured it down her throat. She swallowed it like medicine, grimaced, then set the glass down. “You should know. You trashed the place.”

  “No, Dr. Cahill. I didn’t. Neither did I kill Dr. Kirchner. So let me answer my previous question. The person or persons responsible for murdering Dr. Kirchner, and stealing the robot, most assuredly, areterrorists. ”

  The pterodactyls rose inside her, clamoring for immediate attention. “Or a Verdine Industries competitor,” she pointed out in a voice that didn’t betray her fear.Please God, she prayed, not for the first time.Please let it be SpaceCo, or Hazlet Toy Company that has Rex. Please. Theo was gone, but she had to hold on to the belief that Rex wasn’t going to be used in some dreadful terrorist act.

  “I want every one of your backup files, Dr. Cahill. Where are they?”

  Eden laughed without humor. “You want my backup files? You say you didn’t kill Dr. Kirchner, but you did take me against my will. Think I’m going to hand anything over to a kidnapper? Just like that? What have you been smoking?”

  “There are backup files.”

  “Are you telling me or asking me? When will you get it that I’m here under duress, and I’m not telling…you…” She felt a familiar wash of w
armth travel through her body and glanced down. “A—a th-thing.” Her erect nipples showed through her bra and T-shirt.

  Horrified, furious,baffled, her head shot up. “Damn it! Are youhypnotizing me?”

  “Why? Feel like clucking like a chicken? Of course I’m not hypnotizing you. Tell me where the data can be found, and I’ll have you home in a flash.”

  She didn’t believe him.

  “Do you have a backup for the robot that was stolen, Dr. Cahill?” Sebastian asked. “Is there a second one?”

  Eden had seen enough television to wonder if these two were pulling the good cop, bad cop routine on her. Well, she wasn’t buying it. Just because he was polite didn’t mean he wasn’t as culpable for this crime as the other one. She’d see justice served on both of them. As soon as she got away.

  Eden took another large gulp of whiskey.

  Without a shadow of a doubt, despite his manners, she knew this was not a man to cross. “What was the question?”

  “The robot?”

  Right.“Rex was a prototype. The data was destroyed by Dr. Kirchner’s killer.”

  Keeping her gaze steady with effort, she said flatly, “There was only one Rex.” She checked her watch. Nine twenty-three. My God. How long had he held her here? “What day is it?”

  “Monday.”

  It couldn’t still be Monday, barely enough time had elapsed for him to get her out to the company parking lot, let alone more than a thousand miles from Arizona to Montana. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! I’m still having that ridiculous dream, aren’t I?”

  “If this is a dream,” the other man said dryly, “I’ve been having it for fifteen years.”

  “Shut up, Sebastian,” Gabriel said coolly. “Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

  “Nowhere half this entertaining.”

  “Well, aren’t you two just the sweetest couple?” Eden rose, a little shaky yet. Chugging all that whiskey hadn’t helped her equilibrium any, but she was on her feet and blessed with a sudden surplus of bravado. “Not only don’t I care who you are, I can’t give you what you want. So if you’re going to kill me, give it your best shot. If not, I’m out of here.”

  “It’s a hell of a long walk back to Tempe,” Gabriel said in a neutral tone.

  Eden gave him a cool look. “Then I’d better get going, hadn’t I?”

  “Antagonizing her isn’t going to get you what you want, Gabriel.” Sebastian seemed to be enjoying himself. “Let the poor woman sit down and get her bearings. MacBain? How about a spot of t—Oh, there you go. Tea for the lady.”

  The old man deposited a tea tray almost bigger than he was on the table close to Eden. “I took the liberty of providing a few delicacies, madam. I’m sure you must be hungry after your…trip.”

  Her lips twitched. She was dying for a cup of tea amidst this madness. How could she refuse the offer from a crusty Scottish butler with a sense of humor? Come to think of it, what was a butler, Scottish or otherwise, doing in Montana?

  But she wasn’t here to be amused, and she wasn’t here to drink tea from a cup with little purple pansies on it. And without a doubt those scones would sit like lead in her jumpy stomach. Eden considered her limited options. “As delicious as that looks, I’m afraid I have to pass.” For all she knew the tea was drugged.

  Her host rose from his end of the table. Lord, he was big. And broad. And surly looking. “Any one of a dozen terrorist groups could have stolen your robot, Dr. Cahill. It’s a given that they’ll use it for something nefarious.Soon. Yes, I see by the look on your face that you’ve considered the ramifications of the theft.

  “So tell us, Doctor. Exactly what can this super robot of yours do? Exactly how far has research taken you?”

  So far,Eden thought, nausea rising again,that if you knew, you’d torture me to get the information you want. “Are you the terrorists that stole it?”

  “We’recounter terrorist operatives, Doctor,” Sebastian said, snagging her attention as he removed the tapestry tea cozy from the plump teapot. He poured two cups of steaming tea into the translucent cups, then used silver tongs to pick up a cube of sugar and cocked a brow.

  Eden nodded. What the hell. This wasn’t the time to look around for Sweet’N Low. And if this guy was drinking it, too, it was probably safe. He pushed a cup and saucer in her direction. She glanced from one man to the other, but it was Gabriel Edge she wanted to keep in her sights.

  “You work for the government?” Eden sat down and started stirring her tea. No they didn’t. She’d been interviewed, hell,interrogated, for hours, days,weeks by Homeland Security, FBI, and whatever. Not one of those men looked anything like this man.

  Oh, God. Why hadn’t she been brave enough,smart enough to tell all those government people the truth? She’d known, of course, she’d known the second she’d seen Theo lying there in the kitchen, that the bad guys had Rex.

  There’d been so much blood. How could there be so much blood? A human body only contained 5.6 liters. Six quarts. It had looked like gallons. It was only later that she’d been told he’d been shot five times. At the time she’d been frantic. The blood was everywhere and nothing she’d done had stanched the flow. Nothing she’d done had been enough to save Theo’s life.

  She’d cradled his head on her lap as she listened for the sirens.Comeoncomeoncomeon. Hurryhurryhurry. “I love you,” she told him, forcing her voice steady although she had a boulder clogging her throat. “Please—Oh, God.Please don’t leave me.”

  “E-den.”

  She’d cupped his papery cheek, her eyes hot and burning with unshed tears. The sirens wailed in the distance. Too late. Too damn late. She could barely swallow, as she said calmly, “I’m right here.”

  Theo’s rheumy eyes flickered up to her face. “Destroy—everything.Trust no one. P-promise me.”

  Sebastian touched the back of her hand. “Dr. Cahill?”

  Eden blinked the two men back into focus. She wanted to go home. She wanted to do what she should have done the first time she’d been interviewed. She had to tell the authorities what it was they’d be up against. These two menweren’t the authorities. They were possibly crazy, and absolutely dangerous. They wanted information from her. She’d get information from them. “What exactly do you do for our government?”

  “Freelance work.”

  Eden set down her spoon, hiding the tremble in her hand. “Mercenaries.”

  “Counterterrorist operatives,” he corrected, still scowling.

  Rude bastard. She glanced at Sebastian. “Does that mean I threw up on your shoe phone?” she asked sweetly.

  “Look, lady,” Gabriel snarled, clearly at the end of his very short rope. “Cut the crap. Take my word for it. We’re the good guys. Exactly what the hell will your robotic pal do for thebad guys, Doctor?”

  She was tempted, God, was she tempted to tell them she’d invented a robot that did excellent pedicures. They’d let her go. Or kill her. She might be scared, but she damn well refused to be intimidated. “Anything.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Give us an example of ‘anything.’ ”

  Rx793, Rex, was Eden’s pride and joy. She’d worked on the robot for more than ten years. “I hadn’t finished running the variables,” she told the two men reluctantly. “He wasn’t nearly finished yet. I still had at least six months, maybe more—”

  Gabriel wound his hand indicating she get on with it.

  “When he’s completed he’ll be impervious…to just about anything. Heat. Cold. Chemicals. Toxins. Rex will have the ability to go into the most intense burning building to perform rescues impossible for a human. He can be used to clean up chemical spills, go into any toxic environment and bring back samples.”

  “What thefuck was Verdine thinking?” Gabriel pushed away from the table to pace. “Anyone with half a goddamned brain cell would know that having something this sophisticated would appeal to every damned terrorist on the planet.”

  She pressed a hand to her stomach and said alm
ost desperately, “The marketing people at Verdine Industries have been talking to firefighters, law enforcement agencies, and the CDC. He’s an enormous breakthrough in AI. I’m doing a symposium on him in Berlin nex—”

  The two men made eye contact, and Eden felt a premonition-type shiver run up her spine. She had to tell the right people just how much more advanced she’d made the robot. She’d done everything she was telling her kidnappers. And more. If the American government didn’t put her in front of a firing squad on the spot, they’d probably throw her in jail for sixty lifetimes. She hadn’t known how far she could go. Was that defendable?

  “Tell us how to destroy it, and we’ll let you go.”

  Her mouth was dry, but she couldn’t make herself pick up the cup in front of her to take a sip of tea. “I can’t.”